A Polyvalent Prophecy

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

    In one scene in the “Star Wars” prequel movie “Revenge of the Sith” (Episode III, for those keeping track), there is an interaction between Obi Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, and Yoda, all Jedi masters as they talk about Anakin’s assignment to spy on Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, due to a concern about how much power he is holding for himself.  Master Windu doesn’t trust Anakin (which turns out to be a good intuition, as Anakin, turned Darth Vader, will kill Master Windu).  Obi Wan asks, “With all due respect, Master, is he not the chosen one?  Is he not to destroy the Sith and bring balance to the force?”  Mace responds, “So the prophecy says.”  Yoda then chimes in, “A prophecy that misread could have been.”  Of course, for Star Wars fans, we know that Anakin’s son, Luke, will turn his father back to the light, and Darth Vader will kill Emperor Palpatine and bring balance to the force.
    We hear the prophecy of Isaiah today in our first reading, and we likely immediately direct that prophecy to Jesus.  And that is a fair reading.  Jesus is the servant who reveals the glory of God, who brings back Israel to her God, and is the light to the nations, as Simeon will say almost verbatim at the Presentation of the Lord, “A light to reveal you to the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”
    But while this prophecy is not misread, when prophecies talk about Christ, they can also refer to us.  And this makes sense, since through Holy Baptism God unites us to Christ and makes us members of Christ’s Mystical Body, the Church.  With the power of the Holy Spirit, given to us in Baptism and poured out afresh into us through Confirmation, God calls us to show His glory, and gather all His lost children back to Him.  God makes us a light to the nations to proclaim His salvation, a light that we should not hide under a bushel basket, but let shine so that others may come to know Christ and His salvation.

An icon of St. John the Baptist

    We do this by living like St. John the Baptist.  Yes, God called the Precursor to point out the Lamb of God on the banks of the River Jordan, and to call people to repentance because the Kingdom of God is at hand.  But that is our call, too.  God calls us to prepare the way for the Lord.  God calls us to point out Jesus, the Lamb of God, wherever we see Him.  As disciples of the Lord, we should recognize the way that He works, both from our knowledge of Scripture and the teachings of the Church, but also through our own experiences of how God has worked in and through us.  For someone who is not Catholic or maybe not even Christian, our understanding of Christ and how He works can help others believe in Him.  
    But God does not only call us to be like St. John the Baptist.  He calls us to be like St. Paul the Apostle, called by Christ Jesus by the will of God.  God may not call us to travel around as much as St. Paul, or even to write letters like St. Paul (though sometimes God can call us to communicate what God is saying through writing), but through Confirmation we have all been called to be an apostle.  An apostle in the ancient Greek world was like an emissary or ambassador, one who spoke for a person with authority, from the combination of the Greek words 𝛼𝜋𝜊, meaning off or forth, and 𝜎𝜏𝜀𝜆𝜆𝜀𝜄𝜈, meaning to send.  We should see ourselves as emissaries of the grace and peace of God, bringing it to those we meet by what we say and by what we do.  
    Too often, I think we can fall into the trap of thinking that all those holy things happened a long time ago.  St. John the Baptist was just a particular guy for his particular time.  St. Paul was just a particular guy for his particular time.  Or even that Jesus was so unique that no one can be like Him.  True, God does call people for particular times, and Jesus, as the Son of God, uniquely fulfills God’s prophecies about how He would save His people.  But God has made us for these times.  And God calls us to continue to complete the work of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.  The world is not yet how it should be.  The Kingdom of God has not finished installing in our world.  Can we do it ourselves?  No.  But with the foundation of the power of the Holy Spirit, and armed with the Gospel of Christ and the teachings Christ has made clear through His Mystical Body, the Church, we can cooperate in the work of salvation and bring Christ to full stature, as St. Paul says.
    It is as St. Teresa of Avila says:
 

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.
 

Will we continue the mission of Christ?  Will we, also, fulfill the prophecies of old so that the glory of God can be revealed and His salvation can reach the ends of the earth?

True Dichotomy

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  So often we’re nudged in the direction of a false dichotomy.  That phrase, false dichotomy, might sound foreign, might even sound like an obscure body part, but it’s the wrong assertion that there are only two choices.  For example, a person might say, “You have to vote for a Republican or a Democrat,” when, in fact, there are other political parties for whom you can vote.  Or, less weighty, you have to decide whether or not you can put pineapple on pizza.  As I tend to be the pop culture reference guy, it’s like Anakin in “Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith” saying to Obi Wan, “‘If you’re not with me, then you’re my enemy.’” 

    But not all dichotomies are false.  Scripture, and especially our epistle today, talks about the dichotomy between sin and grace, death and life.  Sin brings death, grace brings life.  And St. Paul talks about the Romans had previously been slaves to sin and death, but now were raised to life through grace, “in Christ Jesus our Lord.” 
    But this is not just St. Paul.  It’s the overarching theme in the Scriptures, from Genesis to Revelation.  In Genesis, after God creates everything good, culminating in the creation of man and woman in His image, our first parents have life.  They are living in the grace of God.  But then, Eve, followed by Adam, disobey God; they sin.  And by sinning, they welcome death into the world.  They are expelled from the Garden of Eden, and separated from the Tree of Life, so that they experience death. 
    And so throughout Genesis, we see that when evil is allowed to fester, it leads to death.  Think of the Flood and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah.  But, when people follow God, they find life.  Think of Abram leaving Ur because God calls him to go to Canaan, and then becoming Abraham, the father of many nations.  The same could be said for Exodus, where God leads His people from slavery to sin in Egypt to freedom in following His law in the Promised Land.  Of course, throughout the journey, some disobey God, and they find death.  While others, like Joshua and Caleb, follow God, even when unpopular, and they enter the Promised Land.
    This same overarching theme repeats itself in the Books of Joshua and Judges, and then with the Kings of Israel.  The prophetic books are basically warnings from God through His prophets to live according to God’s will, because if they continue in their sin, they will die.  This culminates in the dispersion of the Northern Kingdom of Israel after they start worshiping false gods and oppressing those for whom God has a special love: widows and orphan; and the exile of the Southern Kingdom of Judah to Babylon after they, too, engage in idolatry and mistreatment of the poor and vulnerable.
    Of course, nowhere does this dichotomy appear clearer than with our Lord, who calls Himself, “‘the Way and the Truth and the Life.’”  To follow Him is to have life; to reject Him is to choose death.  The Savior even takes our rejection and the consequence of that rejection–death–upon Himself in His crucifixion, but because He was faithful to God He rises on the third day.  And the rest of the New Testament unpacks that choice between life and death, and helps those who follow the Lord to know what choosing life looks like to the nascent Church.  The Acts of the Apostles, St. Paul’s epistles, the epistles of St. Peter, St. Jude, and St. John all talk about how we can have eternal life and reject the death of sin.
    And at the end of the Bible in the Book of Revelation, we see the cosmic battle between good and evil, a battle that God wins convincingly.  But the Spirit also warns the churches that they have to continue to follow God to have that life.  It was not enough to choose life once or earlier; life must be chosen each day.  In the end, sin and death are defeated forever, and the fullness of the reign of God shines forth, with eternal life for those who remained faithful (and eternal punishment for those who rejected God).
    So which do we choose: life or death?  By our fruits, Christ tells us, you can tell what we choose.  Each time we sin, especially grave sins, we invite death into our lives.  Each time we follow God, we invite eternal life into our lives.  Indeed, though we often think of the judgment as Christ telling us where to go, either to Hell, or to Purgatory or Heaven, really we make that choice each day of our lives.  While the just are surprised that they served Christ through service to the poor, and the wicked are likewise surprised that they ignored Christ through ignoring the poor, they knew that they had served or ignored the poor.  In that way, their salvation or damnation was not a surprise, because they knew their choices, and whether or not they choose to do follow what God had instructed for eternal life.  Sometimes it was one act of following the Lord at the end of one’s life, like St. Dismas, the good thief, who received paradise for his defense of Christ crucified.  At other times it was more choices for the Lord, with some rejections sprinkled in, like St. Peter.  Or, in a negative sense, one great act of betrayal from Judas led him to despair of any chance of salvation.  But Dismas nor Peter nor Judas was ignorant of the choices they made and how each could affect eternal salvation.
    So where will we come out in this great drama and battle between life and death?  By baptism Christ claimed us for Himself and eternal life, and gives us the grace to stay faithful to the choices of life each day.  Each day the enemy works to enslave us once more to death.  Neither Christ nor the devil chooses for us.  We choose if we want death or life.  Praised be to God who gives us all the graces necessary so that we can accept the gift that salvation is, won for us by Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever. 
    

Connecting to the Force of the Eucharist

 Solemnity of Corpus Christi
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  A few weeks back I was super excited to see that a new Star Wars series had started that detailed what happened to Obi-Wan Kenobi between Episode III, when he delivers baby Luke Skywalker to Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, and Episode IV, where Luke, now an adult, finds “Ben” Kenobi and asks him for help with a message that the droid R2-D2 had delivered.

    I won’t give a lot away of the new series for anyone who’s interested, but I do want to focus on Obi-Wan for a second.  Obi-Wan was one of the greatest Jedi, along with Yoda and Mace Windu.  He bested Anakin Skywalker, who was also a great Jedi (though failed to actually kill him).  But the series begins with him lost, making his way through a quotidian, hum-drum life.  The few Jedi that remain are still being hunted, so he’s trying to lay low on Tatooine, while still watching over Luke, as Yoda ordered Obi-Wan to do.  In the beginning of the series (no spoilers, don’t worry), Obi-Wan shows a real lack of being able to use the force, a Jedi’s source of power, because he has lost practice and been separated from using it for so long.
    Star Wars is quite gnostic, and filled with some far-eastern religion influences, so it’s not quite a great analogy to Christianity.  But, as I prepared my homily for Corpus Christi, and knowing how few Catholics believe in the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist and how many Catholics have left the faith, I was struck by the real danger, not of being separated from the force, but being separated from the Eucharist.
    The Eucharist is our force.  It is what gives us power to live as disciples of Christ.  No, we generally are not able to suspend people in the air, or wave our hand and effect suggestions on the weak-minded, nor are we given swords that can pulse through bodies and metal and block blasters.  But we are given the Body and Blood of Christ to strengthen us to live as the saints we are called to be.  
    I think about baptized Catholics I know and, I can’t give a number, but suffice it to say a lot, they have left the Mass for ecclesial communities (non-Catholic groups, often Evangelicals) that have rock bands for music, or screens with amazing videos and presentations.  Some leave after a short while; others stick with it for a long time, or even the rest of their lives.  They often say that they’re getting more out of their worship, or feel better about going to church, or are learning more about the Scriptures.
    Before I continue, I do want to warn us (myself included) against smugness and a superiority complex.  And, while I’m not accusing anyone here, I will say it can be a very strong and particular temptation for those who attend the Extraordinary Form.  It can be very easy to say that, because we appreciate the older liturgy, which does tend to have a greater sense of transcendence, we are better than others.  It is very easy to be Pharisaical and thank God that we’re not like those other Catholics who attend a Novus Ordo Mass, and our superiority is borne out by how many kids we have, or that we go to Mass every Sunday, or that we tend to believe what the Church teaches on the faith and morals.  Don’t get me wrong, large families are great blessings, you should go to Mass every Sunday and holyday, and staying faithful to the Church’s teaching on faith and morals is a sign that one is walking with Christ.  But when those things are used as weapons against others, or used to make us seem better than others, then what could be a strength can easily become a downfall.
    Back to my point: as Catholics leave the practice of their faith, they are leaving the Eucharist.  Only if a Catholic left for an Orthodox church or a schismatic Catholic church could we say that they would still receive the Eucharist, even if those other communities offer “communion.”  But as a person separates themself from the Eucharist, they lose connection to that which gives them power to live as a disciples, as Christ has revealed through His Church.  Even if a Catholic simply stops going to Mass on a regular basis, and doesn’t even join another community, he or she is losing the nourishment that Christ wants to provide us so that we can follow Him faithfully.  Is it a wonder, then, as Catholics have stopped going to Mass or have left the faith altogether that more and more Catholics or ex-Catholics start supporting things which are contrary to the faith?  
    Again, we may say, “Well, thank God that’s not me!”  But, as the saying goes, “But for the grace of God go I.”  Part of the beauty of these annual celebrations is that we remind ourselves of the treasures that we have, not to grasp on to them and hoard them, but to utilize them and share the graces we receive from them with others.  Catholics used to go to Mass weekly in greater numbers, north of 70 or 80 percent!  But perhaps they forgot the beauty of what they had, and so they didn’t go as frequently, or didn’t pass on that greatness of the gift of the faith to their children, because it wasn’t fully appreciated.  Other, secular realities grew in importance, even though it didn’t give them the power to fight the good fight on earth, in preparation for being welcomed into heaven.  
    And so we need to remind ourselves that the Eucharist is our strength!  Without it, we are lost, and cannot be the people God wants us to be.  Without the Eucharist, marriage becomes so much more difficult, because the Eucharist is sacrifice, and marriage always calls for that sacrificial love.  Without the Eucharist the virtue of chastity is so much more difficult, because we are disconnected from the source of every virtue.  Without the Eucharist, we cannot love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us, because we no longer receive the one who gave Himself up for His enemies and persecutors inside us in the same way.  Without the Eucharist, our care for the poor makes no sense, because we are not taking in the God who made Himself poor so that we might become rich.  In other words, to be the Catholic disciples God wants us to be without the Eucharist is impossible.  And that even impels us to walk in the streets as we will today, to bring our Eucharistic Lord into the public, so that others can remember how much they need him!
    And the difficulty to live the faith without the Eucharist should keep us coming back, even if the prayers don’t always make sense to us; or the music isn’t what we like (Gregorian chant is beautiful, don’t get me wrong, and properly Catholic, but it often doesn’t cause an emotive response that so many desire); even if we struggle in those long moments of silence to keep our attention on the sacrifice being offered.  
    Obi-Wan struggled after his fight with Anakin because Obi-Wan became disconnected from the force.  We will struggle to live a holy life if we disconnect ourselves from the Eucharist (we may struggle with the Eucharist, but it would be even harder without it!).  Use the force that God has given us for living as His disciples.  Stay connected through the Eucharist to Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Son reign for ever and ever.  Amen. 

Becoming Like Obi-Wan Kenobi

Fourth Sunday in Ordinary Time
    While the Star Wars purists here might lose some respect for me, I’m actually a fan of Episodes II and III, which deal with Anakin Skywalker, and his transition to Darth Vader.  Every time I watch the movies I am drawn in by how good Anakin was, how he was driven by good motives, but then those motives get twisted when he sees a vision of his wife, Padmé, dying in childbirth (which, ironically, he helps cause to happen).  I particularly enjoy Episode III and a final battle between Anakin and his mentor, Obi-Wan

Kenobi.  Obi-Wan is trying, however futilely, to show Anakin the error of his ways, and mentions the great hope that Obi-Wan had for Anakin.  But Anakin is set in his dark path, so Obi-Wan has to kill Anakin to prevent future evil from thriving.  Obi-Wan still cares for Anakin, and so bemoans that Anakin turned to the dark side, despite his potential to do so much good.  As Anakin, his legs amputated by Obi-Wan’s light saber and the rest of his body slowly burning from lava-laced ground, looks at Obi-Wan leaving him to die, he yells out, “I hate you!”
    The people of Israel, and we, the members of the Church, can sometimes be like Anakin Skywalker: we have such great potential to do good and bring light, but so often we turn to the dark.  Rather than continuing as Anakin Skywalker, a great Jedi who can accomplish so much good, our desires and our hearts are twisted and perverted to become Darth Vader, a Sith who sews darkness.
    The prophets are like Obi-Wan Kenobi.  They are meant to train us in goodness and holiness, and remind us of the will of God.  Jeremiah, in our first reading, spoke to the people of Judah, the southern kingdom of Israel, to tell them that they had wandered away from God.  They no longer walked in the light, but caused darkness by their oppression of the poor, widows, and orphans, their worship of foreign gods, and their trust in the building of the temple, rather than trusting in the One who made the temple holy: God.  For this, Jeremiah eventually is arrested and thrown into a cistern, until what Jeremiah prophesied comes to pass, and the temple is destroyed and the people are exiled to Babylon.  
    Jesus, too, is a prophet, but not just a prophet, but the Prophet, and the source of all prophecy.  He speaks for God, which is the role of every prophet, and while some are drawn to that proclamation, others are enraged by it.  The members of his hometown wonder how He could claim to speak with such authority, as He had just proclaimed that the passage from Isaiah was fulfilled in their hearing, which we heard last week.  So Jesus calls them out, and for this they drive Him out of town, and try to push Him off the brow of the hill, but He passes through them without any harm.
    Last week I mentioned how our mission is the same as Jesus’ mission.  We are called to be prophets.  But as we proclaim God’s Word (and we should make sure that we’re spreading God’s word, not our own), we should not fool ourselves and think that everyone will warmly accept our message.  As we challenge people to live according to God’s plan, people may start yelling at us, “I hate you!”
    Part of proclaiming that message is doing so with love.  So often we operate out the philosophy that what is loving is what people will readily embrace.  But St. Paul reminds us that love is not a feeling, but is actions.  In fact, in the English we say “Love is patient,” and basically use descriptors for love.  But in the original Greek, when St. Paul describes love, the word that we consider describing love is actually a verb.  Instead of saying, “Love is patient,” we might say, “Love patients.”  Importantly, too, love “does not rejoice over wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth.”  Anything that God has revealed is wrong, or anything that God has revealed as false is not loving.  
    This is where most people get upset, because there are many things in today’s culture that people think are loving, but because they are contrary to what God has revealed in Sacred Scripture or through the Church, they are not truly loving.  Like Anakin, there is the desire to do good, but it easily gets twisted and changes to evil because a person’s emotions or desires get the better of him or her.  
    What is obvious in the Scriptures is that people, even well-intentioned people, prefer doing evil to good, because evil often feels so much better and gives quicker gratification.  Doing good sometimes doesn’t feel good, and sometimes you don’t feel gratified immediately.  Or sometimes we convince ourselves, contrary to the ancient maxim, that we can do this evil thing because it will achieve a good result.  Evil never leads to good; it only perpetuates evil.
    We are all called to be prophets through our baptism, which means that we are all called to proclaim God’s message by word and by deed.  As prophets, though, we should prepare ourselves that not everyone will always be open to God’s message, no matter how we package it, and that it may, like Jeremiah and Jesus, lead to real struggles.  But, if we speak the message in the love of God, we know that we, grounded in love, can bear all things, hope all things, and endure all things.